Rayne
by the aspiring cynic
Summary: It was painfully beautiful; the way his bells complemented her rayne. A WynterxL oneshot from Deicide.


There is no remedy for self-pity. For it is an illness one must cure alone.

-Author Unknown

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.

Summary: It was painfully beautiful; the way his bells complemented her rayne. A WynterxL oneshot.

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><p><strong>AN: I recommend reading Deicide before reading this particular oneshot. But hey it's your choice. This is what happens when you mix a torrent of feelings and attempt to write a chapter for Deicide. My miserable attempt at fluff.**

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><p>Wynter loved the dreams that were filled with an empty void, those were the ones that allowed her to escape the hell etched onto her eyelids. Perhaps that was the reason she was such a zealous alcoholic, the sweet elixir was the only way to ensure a sleep empty of dreams. It was pure ecstasy, the way enough glasses of vodka wiped everything out of her system. At first it had been rather chilling, the numbing sensation she got after a couple shots.<p>

Soon, all she could feel was that numbing feeling. The burning feeling would soon dull her senses; it was as though her entire body was in a coma while her mind seemed completely detached. She quickly downed another shot sending her body into anesthetized state.

_**It's quiet in the headquarters.**_

Mello had left to raise hell in the shadier part of town while his eternal lackey, Matt, accompanied him. There was no doubt in Wynter's mind that if Mello walked into hell itself, Matt would be right there beside him forever clicking away at that maddening video game.

The albino, Near, was distinctly absent from the room. Wynter wasn't really complaining especially since she had stepped on his robots one too many times. He had went off to do whatever albinos did at ungodly hours. She highly doubted he was sleeping since Mr. Creeper, his unspoken idol and role model, had yet to even blink in her presence let alone hit the hay.

Speaking of Mr. Creeper, the said man had yet to comment on the copious amount of alcohol she had ingested that evening. Normally by now, he would nastily reprimand her for her addiction and scold her on the evils of drink all the while downing another cup of the sugar sludge he called tea. The damned hypocrite.

But instead of lecturing her, he sat hunched in front of a computer screen no doubt replaying that tape over and over again. Or perusing the scant evidence they had for the umpteenth time.

_**It's his obsession. **_

That single thought resounded throughout her conscious. What else could possibly the actions of this twenty-four year old?

And what precisely was his obsession?

Was it Kira? The blasphemous vigilante with a god-complex. Wynter remembered during one of her many un-empty dreams, the serial killer had a tendency to fuss with his hair rather similarly to an unnamed star from Canada. For some reason, Wynter had a nagging feeling that Kira was not the object of his obsession. Rather, she dearly hoped not.

Was it Astraea? The brat that unwittingly ushered in the most terrifying reign of fear to have ever existed on the planet. Wynter subconsciously shook her head. There was no true feasible reason for him to be so focused on her. He probably wouldn't have realized her existence if she wasn't so heavily involved with Kira.

His obsession had to be something much simpler than that.

Wynter's eyes dulled as she poured herself another shot glass.

Her epiphany hit her like a semi-truck driven by a drunken Mello. It left her bewildered, pained and slightly peeved.

She had remembered all the times he had ranted about why it was so exigent that they capture Kira and bring him to justice.

_** Justice.**_

Wynter smacked her shot glass onto the table making a loud _clink! _when it made contact with wood.

What the hell was justice anyways?

What could have possibly made this man so inclined to pursue it?

_**Justice. **_

Wynter spat her vodka onto the table and unleashed an undignified grunt.

Who the hell were they to decide what Kira was doing was wrong?

They certainly weren't granted permission by some higher being to rid the Earth of the abomination.

Were they?

Wynter glanced to the ceiling feeling chills run down her spine. She shook her head and quickly poured another shot.

"Hey, Ryuuzaki." Wynter's words slurred as she downed the glass.

"What is it, Ms. Wynter?" The typing never ceased and Wynter felt her eyelid twitch in irritation. Did the man ever take a break?

"Get off yer ass and drink with me." Wynter ordered.

"Ms. Wynter, as you can see, I am currently attending to urgent matter regarding this case and . . ."

"Bullshit, Ryuuzaki! You're twenty-four with no girlfriend to speak of and you spend all your time tracking some idiot that spends more time on his hair than should be legal. You fucking deserve a drink if not more!"

Wynter didn't really expect a reaction from Mr. Creeper. He'd probably just go back to his computer and ignore her antics just like always.

"If you insist . . ." His soft monotone answered as he got up from the computer screens. He sat across from her on the opposite couch and warily eyed the bottle of vodka.

Wynter hastily poured the man a drink stunned by his willingness to drink with her.

_**He holds a shot glass like he does his teacups. **_

Wynter couldn't help but smile wolfishly at him as he downed the liquid.

"It . . . burns." He remarked.

"Yeah well, a couple more and you won't be able to stop." Wynter shrugged as she poured more into his glass.

"This your first time drinking?" Wynter asked as her eyes shifted from her vodka to the man sitting before her.

"No." He shook his hand while holding the glass in his curious way.

"Hey, Ryuuzaki. Why do you want to catch Kira so badly?"

He paused and Wynter shuddered as his eyes skimmed hers.

"Because Kira should not exist. It is not man's decision to kill another no matter whether said person has committed unlawful deeds. Man should never be able to hold that much power. Which is why it is unprecedented that we bring him to justice."

_**There's that word again. **_

Wynter snorted, "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend, Ryuuzaki."

"Whatever do you mean Ms. Wynter?"

"You've spent your whole life dealing with what humanity wishes to ignore that you yourself have forgotten how to be human. Justice or injustice, most people don't really give a shit unless it directly affects them. You're either the greatest saint to have ever walked the Earth or a giant fool obsessed with his own morals, I can't really decide." Wynter smirked to herself as she stared into the shot glass.

She glanced up at Ryuuzaki's face and noticed his look of thoughtfulness.

"Ms. Wynter thinks I'm a saint?" The way he repeated her words made him sound like some odd parrot.

Wynter harshly shook her head trying to take back her words in haste but it was too late.

"Well, there's no way you're human. I mean, what idiot would sacrifice their own sanity and happiness to bring criminals to justice? I've always wondered about that. Why do people become police officers and investigators? Why not leave the world in a state of anarchy? What's in it for them?" Wynter ranted bitterly.

"Perhaps, it is for the sake of others." Wynter blinked at his words in cynical disbelief.

"Others? Tell me, Ryuuzaki, who is that you dedicated your life of investigation to? Who do you possibly have besides your successors?"

"You."

"E-excuse me?" Wynter gawked at his answer nearly dropping the shot glass as a result.

"I have you, Ms. Wynter." His voice was firmly locked in his usual monotone and his face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

Wynter paused as she was unsure how to continue. The conversation was now much too awkward regardless of the amount of alcohol she dumped into her bloodstream.

Luckily for Wynter, Ryuuzaki took the opportunity to pass out from his alcohol consumption. His frame slumped against the back of the couch and his head rested awkwardly on the armrest.

Wynter snorted. _**Geez he's a lightweight. Can't even hold his alcohol.**_

Romance novels generally spew crap about how people are so serene and calm while they sleep.

Wynter concluded that Ryuuzaki looked more or less the same. His face held that emotionless mask even when unconscious. Although, it did seem as though he had a childish pout, but Wynter wasn't sure whether that was the alcohol talking.

On an impulse, Wynter got up and rummaged in the nearby linen closet finding a thin blanket. She roughly draped it around him and smirked when she realized he was sleeping in his "roosting" position. The man still had his knees drawn up to his chin as he normally did even when fast asleep.

_**He's such a kid.**_

Wynter wandered towards one of the many windows that adorned the makeshift headquarters. It was pitch black outside as rain pelted the windowpane. She sighed before resting her cheek against the cold glass.

In the far distance, she swore she heard bells intertwined with the raindrops.


End file.
